1939

by Hańba!

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about

About everything that’s happening right now – I’m silent! (Józef Wittlin). Yet, the rebellious orchestra keeps singing. About sailing ships, for which there are no places left (Władysław Szlengel). About the knightly hunt in the shadow of the alcove (Zuzanna Ginczanka). About Polish colonies and Beck’s Island (Tadeusz Hollender). About laundresses with hair like linen who gently wash the thin white (Ginczanka). About wars that have already broken out. About wars that will break out tomorrow (Wittlin). Hańba! Sings the year “1939”.
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O wszystkim, co się teraz dzieje – milczę (Józef Wittlin). Orkiestra zbuntowana jednak nieustannie śpiewa. O płynących okrętach, dla których nie ma miejsc (Władysław Szlengel). O rycerskich łowach w cieniu alkowy (Zuzanna Ginczanka). O polskich koloniach i Wyspie Becka (Tadeusz Hollender). O lnianowłosych praczkach piorących delikatnie biel cieniutką (Ginczanka). O wojnach, które już się toczą. O wojnach co jutro wybuchną (Wittlin). Hańba! śpiewa rok '1939'.

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released April 12, 2019

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Hańba! Kraków, Poland

Zbuntowana orkiestra podwórkowa / Folk Punk From 1930's Poland

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Track Name: Płyną okręty
The Ships Are Sailing
by Władysław Szlengel (1912-1943)

The ships are sailing through the barrens
Throughout the oceans and the seas
The ships are sailing days and nights
The ships are sailing loaded with refugees
Sailing and sailing here and there
Knocking to every port and gate
But the world is locked and bolted
Cause everywhere they go they read: NO PLACES LEFT

So they stay on those ships
To wander around the ocean depths
Not corsairs, nor pirates,
not heroes, nor ramblers
people with no tomorrow, souls of no one
people spat out of the man all those for
whom there are no places left

The ships are sailing, ships are sailing
Through the azures, through the whirls
The ship is a coffin, not a boat
Azure is black ink
So they sail into this endless cruise
and on the gates the sign says: no places left

The globe is spinning around
Rich in wonders and resources
Suddenly it stops - is it the weight?
Please step off – no places left

translated by Marta Ziegler
Track Name: Polskie kolonie
Polish Colonies
by Tadeusz Hollender (1910-1943)

It's obvious - we're strong and young Fertile land, enough horses and arms The only thing harms us – we have no colonies!

The others have the Guyanas, the Indias, the Abyssinias bananas, farms in Patagonia. Polesie and Jews in Charbin - are not colonies!

It's obvious - we're strong and young Who needs the negros! The workers' hands in Sosnowiec and Łódź – the Polish colony – will do the same work

Poland! Oh, you great and happy country The island of Beck, on the depths of the Pacific… Already they’re singing in Mokotów About a Polish colony!

translated by Marta Ziegler
Track Name: Łowy
The Hunt
by Zuzanna Ginczanka (1917-1945)

Into the thickets of the past, into the distant times
Into the menacing, winding forests and woods
With their hands woven into harnesses and manes
Hunters in black their horses ride

Oh, the beautiful hunt! Oh, the proud hunt!
In the alcove’s clandestine history

With nostrils inflated and bent backs
With lips pursed and focused sight
They run like the wind in a black gallop
Following the faintest of traces, the feeblest of tracks

What kind of zeal makes their sight so clear?
What do they look for? What kind of beast?
What impulse stretches their chests
Worthy of a knight, worthy of a man
The hunters ride into a distant time
Where tracks’ve overgrown and traces have darkened
In the thickets of the past, like an ant, working hard
They search for the granny, for Jewish gram!

The Jewish granny of their neighbor,
Their sworn enemy, their good fellow
And when they sniff her out like a hind
They blow their trumpets, horns and play!

Tense nerves, fierce sight
He’s the hunter, the blue-eyed, blonde

translated by Marta Ziegler
Track Name: Milczę
I'm silent
by Józef Wittlin (1896-1976)

About everything that’s going on right now…

About the poverty of the country, and the fate of the peasant
About the poverty of the city, and the unemployment
About pitting people against each other

About the children in Madrid’s mortuaries
About the mercy of bombs and mustard gas
About all the murders I am seeing,
When the bombs are flying and capitals are burning!

About the hunger of the hungry, fullness of the full
About everyone defeated in the unjust war
About tons of blood bled out in vain.
About everything that’s happening right now.

About all the armed cowards,
About Poland after the Marshal’s death
About beating up the helpless and the weak

About wars that have already broken out
About wars that will break out tomorrow
The soul silently screams
When the bombs are flying and capitals are burning!

About the hunger of the hungry, fullness of the full
About everyone defeated in the unjust war
About tons of blood bled out in vain.
About everything that’s happening right now – I’m silent!

translated by Marta Ziegler
Track Name: Praczki
The Laundresses
by Zuzanna Ginczanka (1917-1945)

Lala-la, lala-la
Buzzes, buzzes the white foam

Carefully, cautiously,
The laundresses wash the thin white
Trying not to tear the lace
And save up for the bombs

Trying not to rip the flounces
And to build a tank – a tankie
Trying not to destroy the brassiere
To buy a lot of battleshipsies

Clang! Bang! Snip! Snap!
Here, a new fragrant gas grows
Snip! Snap! Thump! Bump!
New, shiny Krupp tanks

A new missile, a fashionable mine,
A new, slim submarine
A new kind of glass candle
Laced, flounced

Lala-la, lala-la
Buzzes, buzzes the black foam

It’s not a laundryroom, not a washtub
(I know, because I’m looking into time and far away)
Those are the infernal, devilish tubs
If I were to be honest-

Clang! Bang! Buzzes, splashes –
Black oil, greasy tar
Blood cooling, thick swarms
Death in trenches, fields and ditches -
Clang! Bang! Buzzes, splashes
Above the tar – crackling sulfur
Demons herd each other to work

Lala-la, Lala-la
And in a soft voice are singing
Lala-la, Lala-la
The laundresses with hair like linen

translated by Marta Ziegler

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